Sequel to The Beast that Growls
by Turise
Summary: Harry, 21, is lost in time in a world that wants to find peace after the end of Voldemort's reign. Harry is doing his best to hide a hazardous case of disassociation that is leaving his personal world in shambles. Having lived for so long in a state of war, coping simply isn't possible, but it seems that Merlin has the answer if only Harry is up for the challenge...
1. Chapter 1

**Hey all. This is the sequel to The Beast That Growls, a fanfic I did a few months back. Without giving spoilers, just know the chapters to come will be chronological but not as plotty as that first story. They'll link up but probably head off in surprising directions, too. I wanted just to tell you what life is like for him now.**

**I won't give a summary of The Beast That Growls, even though those of you who haven't read it will most likely feel cheated by this story, because I'm bring up a lot of things you'd have to have read in that one to know what I mean. I don't want to spoil that story, you see. Try to enjoy.**

James stood awkwardly before Harry, wanting to reach forward and touch him, but feeling a sick sense of manners that kept him still. He took a few deep breaths to get his nerves back in order, and then he smiled.

"It's nice when you visit. You don't do it nearly enough."

Harry – for the first time since being alone with James – smiled. Albeit, his cheeks were stiff, but he showed rather sharp canines and that was nice. He smiled more easily with James's parents. It was awkward sometimes that his parents were Harry's grandparents…when he thought about it he didn't altogether like the idea.

"I don't know what to say to you," Harry said.

The two of them were outside James's home, near the pool. It was a hot summer day just months after Harry first came into their lives. Harry had said his birthday was July 31st, and that was tomorrow. He had a big Auror test that would take his whole day, and then a date planned for later that evening, so if the Potters wanted to see him they would have to do it a day early. James knew Harry's date was with that Slytherin, Severus Snape, and oh, he did not like it. It was a rift between them that James had yet to talk about.

"It's hot," James said as lightheartedly as he could. "Would you like a swim? Mum and dad aren't expecting us for lunch for a while…You know, they still talk about what you did at my graduation. You should try to explain to them why you did all that."

"Oh," Harry said, and James knew Harry didn't want to, but didn't really want to say as much.

James kept his smile, though. It was a bit forced; he was nervous. "Let's go swimming?"

Maybe he didn't like water, but Harry shook his head, no.

"Why not?"

James averted his eyes when the awkward silence grew between them again. It grew until Harry reached forward and broke the barrier between them. "Come on, then," he said.

His touch was light on James's elbow, but it tingled up his arm and reminded James of how it felt to have Lily touch him. It was more than welcome.

With a sigh of relief James led them to the water's edge. He was quick to lose his shirt, shoes, and pants, then sat on the edge with his feet in the fantastic feeling water. Having never taken his eyes off Harry, he considered how slowly he undressed. First came his shoes, and from this angle James was reminded of what he saw in the hospital wing after their encounter in the forest – after he got two arrows in his back. Harry had rolled off the bed to come over to him, and James saw heavy pink scarring over the soles of those feet. He saw the scars again, but didn't comment. He stared for a time, though.

"To keep me from walking," Harry elaborated.

James bit his lip and whipped his head out over the light blue pool. He wished the perfect day would end his thoughts of this man next to him being tortured by the Dark Lord, but it didn't.

He didn't watch now as Harry undressed, but soon, he was dipping his scarred feet into the pool next to him. James looked over and was again rewarded with the image of scars and the outline of muscle. He was in much better shape than James since going through Auror training, although James had more youth.

"If you're uncomfortable with this…I'll change back."

"No. Please don't," and James smiled as best he could under the pressure. "Let's just swim?"

James only ever had Sirius Black for a brother, but Harry was more of a real thing than anything he'd experienced before. Harry was his nephew – he'd been told that a thousand times by himself and others – but imagining him as his older brother was an easy thing to do. All it took was a gentle splash here, a shove there, and they had a bit of a game going. Harry would try to catch James, James wouldn't make it hard, but Harry would never get a hold. They smiled, they laughed just a little bit, and it was nice.

There were scars on Harry's arms and shoulders that James wondered about, but the feeling of being towered over by this man kept him uncertain and unwilling to ask. Harry survived many dark places and those places were carved into him, but right now his flat green eyes were lit and full of kindness and…was it love? James couldn't imagine it to be anything else.

"Can I ask you something?" James asked, breaking the game like a glass cup on tile floor.

Harry stood still as the water splashed around him. He was obviously worried about the question.

"Did you ever get a chance to swim growing up? I know you lived with your aunt before…you know…so did you ever swim?"

After a long amount of time Harry nodded. James saw the vein in his neck pulsing rapidly.

"I lived with her until I was sixteen. I swam with my friends sometimes."

He felt his own pulse quicken. He had never heard Harry talk about his life. Ever. He'd asked some times but Harry wouldn't say.

"What sort friends did you have?"

Harry sniffed loudly and his eyes cast down onto the surface of the wavy water. James would have believed he was deep in thought if he didn't look like that all the time: contemplative; afraid of quiet moments when he was the center of attention.

"Just normal ones…"

"Do you still see them?"

Harry shook his head, no.

He opened his mouth to say more but couldn't find a sound to speak with. Harry was a broken man; he knew it because his parents and Dumbledore told him so. And James was a proper wizard with good manners who wouldn't cross boundaries into the realm of the feelings of men like Harry. They said his nephew had been held prisoner for three years, but not just any three years. It wasn't like they were three innocuous years. They were important years of his life. They were years he could have been doing anything else. Instead, from the time he was seventeen, Harry had been locked away alone with a violent dragon for company.

Harry was trying to find himself, he was told. Spending the day before his birthday with family was part of doing that. Bringing up lost friends wasn't.

"I don't think I'll ever see them again," Harry said, licking his lips. He took a deep breath and said more, "It's not anyone's fault. It was an accident it happened. I might have just died and that would have been why I'd never see them again. But it's this instead. That's…a compromise that I can live with, I think."

"Why?"

Harry shrugged. "I get you instead. That makes me feel better about it. If nothing good came because of it…it would be a different story."

If James thought he'd get more of an answer about it he was mistaken. Harry took another keen interest in the waves on the water and then in the walls of the house. Even when he got out and started to put his clothes back on, James kept trying to think of something to say, but Harry had this way of shutting him up that no one else but Lily ever had. It must have been those green eyes. Green eyes always had a way of shutting him up.

**I don't imagine the next few chapters to be as epic in length as The Beast That Growls (the prequel to this fic) but as you can see it'll take place closely after the end of that and tell us Harry's future and how he's been dealing. Feel free to comment, but it's okay if you just enjoy, too~**


	2. Chapter 2

He ran fast. As fast as he was as a boy, he was faster now as a man. Stronger, taller, faster. The branches scraped his face and arms, caught so tightly on his Auror robe but he wouldn't let it stay behind. Over hills and down the other side again, around large trees and past boulders the size of trolls. He ran, twisting and turning until his lungs rasped and his legs pulsed with fatigue, and then he reached another down-hill passage and found the momentum to keep going.

Next to him and all around, really, were the sounds of others doing the same. He thought he would be the only one fast enough to win this race, but it was a relief to be wrong. If his whole class of Aurors kept up like this, then that only gave him more pride in them being able to save his life if that moment ever came. He was thrilled, relieved, but he had a job to do and couldn't spare the time to –

It was a strange blackness that overcame his mind and let time get away.

_"Up, Potter! You call yourself a hero?!"_

The voice was hazy and far off. He awoke. It was such a surprise to be awaking because he never knew he fell asleep. He was Rennervate right there on his back with a large bruise on his forehead.

"Get up! Keep going! You can't lose this!"

One of his team had stopped long enough to wake him, although he wasn't in the right state of mind to recognize exactly who. He was on his feet, new blood on his forehead, and running again. Auror training. He needed it much more than he hated it.

Repetitive as it was to do the same tests week after week, 'practice training' rather than the real thing, it was the only sort of action around. It was enough, yes. Enough for a man like him. He had a job, weak pay but nothing to complain about, and something to do every day. If he didn't have this, he would have been looking for danger in other places…places with dragons, perhaps.

At the end of the six mile race, Alastor Moody and other Aurors were waiting. They wore their robes and looked the part of proper, respectful men and women. Each Auror had selected one or a few marks to mould – as they did with ever new set of recruits. There were fifteen recruits in Harry's class and twelve teachers. It was a privilege to work here; one he never thought he'd get.

Moody had chosen Harry. He hadn't ever picked someone before – if he had that person was no longer alive to talk about it – so Harry felt a little honored.

"Constant vigilance! You got downed by a branch? Think of what that could lead to in the field if a real chase was on! There isn't going to be someone there to Rennervate you each time you fall, Potter! You don't always get that lucky!"

Harry had lived three years with Voldemort's taunts and evil ways, so he inherently knew the difference between what that was and what Moody was doing. The child in him still remembered how he used to rise to anger and hatred for people who treated him this way. He had it figured before that his uncle was the only person he would let get away with it; no longer the case, apparently.

"You go into battle alone and let that happen and you've lost it! You're taken. You're tortured. You're killed. You're body is destroyed and you're never seen again! You know what it's like! Where was your head?!"

He sensed everyone behind him watching now, and he could take a verbal beating but he couldn't quite take it like this. The eyes on him made his hands shake, and afraid of showing an ounce of feeling to Moody, Harry averted his eyes.

"You've the most powerful wizard to come through these doors in years, Potter! You have to stay focused! You get comfortable in dangerous situations and that leads to disaster! Stay vigilant! You're teammates showed you up today! You only had to run through the forest; instead you find the easiest way to get hurt!"

"Ease up, Moody. The kid has another two years left of training," another of the teachers lectured now, just about exhausted with Moody's constant harangue.

Harry had to relax his mouth in order to speak, which made his shadowy look lighter.

"You know he's right," he said quietly back to the other Auror. And then he said, "I do know what it's like to lose the upper hand in battle. It's not something I would wish on any man here."

Moody brushed shoulders with the Auror near them, making the man stumble. Moody of course meant to do it, and continued to get right into Harry's face. "Friends are the best thing someone like us could have, but not something that will always be there for us. Constant vigilance!"

Harry held very still, quite in anger with himself. Moody didn't linger and carried on in the direction the other recruits and Aurors were heading; on to the next location of tests. Harry found that his feet were heavy and hard to lift. He had to focus to move one, and was nearly unable to keep his pace up with the others. It was the result of heavy thinking; it slowed him down.

The man who revived Harry fell in line next to him.

"Wish I had Moody as my tutor; mine is too soft," he whispered near Harry's ear, giving Harry the creeps simply for being that close to him. It made Harry's body tense and his mind suddenly overflowed with scenarios…ears, limbs, noses falling off, all because of that horrid breath. It did nothing to loosen up Harry's joints.

"Watch it, Mong," Harry warned in a deep voice as serious as the Killing Curse.

Mong gave Harry what had become the usual look recruits – and most everyone – gave him: alarm with lingering disdain. Harry did not like people in his space, and his temper would flash from yellow to red in an instant if someone did. Plus, now was not the time to put one's unwashed teeth near him; his mood was vile enough.

Harry watched him back off and turned forward again, only to spot Moody looking back at him with a pinch between his brows. Harry knew he should get his attitude back to stable but it was nearing the point of being out of his control. Moody fell back into step with him.

"What is it?"

"Guy doesn't own a toothbrush," Harry remarked hatefully.

Moody's eyes stayed on him until Harry vaguely wondered what Moody would do to him if he had gotten physical to push Mong away. And then Harry decided he better not think too much on it, as the image of dead bodies was on his mind enough as it was.

"Cool it, Potter," Moody said at last, only this time his voice was all baritone, and like the repetitive beat of a drum, it soothed him. "You better not be thinking wayward thoughts, or I'll suspend you from the program. Wizard law doesn't provide leniency for murderers, even famous ones."

"I wasn't going to murder him for having bad breath."

"The Dark Lord would have!" He shouted.

Harry instantly froze into place and stared in shock at Moody. The man had worse mood swings than Harry, without a doubt. Alastor spared a moment to wave the class on, and soon it was just the two of them in the field of trees. He again looked long at Harry, studying him fiercely.

It was an odd combination of singing birds, rustling leaves, and bad attitude.

"I remember when I first met you," Moody said, that baritone gone and a bit of a question there in his voice. "You stepped off that big white dragon and you walked right up to us, ready to face your fate after killing all those Death Eaters. And you said something that I will never forget…you said the future would be safe, that children will grow up, have kids of their own, and watch those kids grow…that there won't be so many orphans."

"I meant it, too," Harry stated.

Harry was surprised that he was calm. Sometime during Moody's words that had happened.

"But here you are, Potter. An orphan ready to travel the path the Dark Lord took. Ready to beat a man for careless hygiene."

Harry lowered his gaze to the rocky path and said none-too-loudly, "Why are you making such a _big deal_ about this?"

_"Murder!"_ He growled. _"There's no place for it! Not anymore! Not as anything but the final resort of a cornered man!"_

Did he think Harry was proud of his actions? He was in a world where his parents were alive, and though he wanted to be a good son he was left only as the son of James's brother, long forgotten and killed. Of course he knew murder had no place…but he had a lifetime haunting him to say otherwise.

Harry pursed his lips and closed his eyes. "You have no idea what it was like to live in his head, Moody! No idea!"

"I took you on as my protégé knowing full well what you had been through. Don't tell me I have no idea! I fought in this war and the one before it! I know what suffering is!"

Shame is what this new feeling was. Harry looked into Moody's eyes and agreed with him. Both of them were weary, stubborn, and a little challenged when faced with the new rules of the world. Harry had seen more killing and suffered at the hands and mind of Voldemort more than probably anyone else – he'd been on the front lines of the Second Wizarding War, from 1997 to 2000, as both a prized prisoner and a prized trophy. It came with a steep price. What Harry knew about Voldemort's ways could fill a library, but what he knew about the ways of Aurors was just beginning. Either he would follow the rules he knew and risk becoming the next Dark Lord, or not. Harry was feeling like he was back in that cage in Gringotts and powerless to do anything but adapt or die.

Harry turned towards Moody with tired eyes, and he whispered, "I never thought I would live this long."

"Neither does anyone who saw a war like ours through from start to finish."

Although he was in pain, the strange thing was that tears didn't fall. It was another thing that had changed from when Harry was a child to how he was now: anger didn't bring a rise out of him, and pain didn't make him cry.

"Today's my birthday," Harry said, feeling like it was necessary to change the subject.

Moody sighed deeply and nodded, although he didn't look all that relieved even if Harry was past that little lapse of character.

"I know. It's in your file. I had it marked on the calendar."

"Wish me happy birthday. I could use the luck."

Moody raised a large hand and set it over Harry's shoulder. The heavy weight made Harry believe that his rigorous instructor was feeling that moving was as troublesome a chore for him as it was for Harry.

"Happy birthday, Potter."


	3. Chapter 3

In the cage, birthdays were a day to remember how severely he'd failed. The night he was kidnapped, when Hogwarts had been attacked and Voldemort had issued the ultimatum to trade Harry for the lives of everyone, Harry had accepted. Perhaps it was stupid. Perhaps he should have gone in fighting and got himself killed, or maybe he shouldn't have gone in at all and got everyone killed. Either way, he went in unarmed, and he was taken the most godaweful place ever, where Voldemort ruled his mind and never gave him an inch.

There was nothing less comfortable or less suppressing than sleeping three years on a hard floor surrounded by bars, and feeling like a totally innocent man. The dragon Synwenty, his friend who in this lifetime he had killed, was a strange sort of rough kindness, but when Harry tried to explain the concept of birthdays to him year after year there was nothing computing in that head of its. Parceltongue taught him Dracotongue, but nothing could teach a dragon about the ways of people.

This was his first birthday outside the cage. There wasn't going to be a massacre today, or Voldemort coming to see him through their mental connection. He wouldn't be making the choice to let his torture happen without resisting or not. He was on his way out on a date, and he was dressed up fine, and he was putting his past as far behind him as he could tonight. He was capable of doing that now. It had been months, he'd fulfilled his duty, and though he was in a time when his friends Ron and Hermione had never existed they also weren't actually dead. The compromise.

Harry stood in front of his wardrobe mirror and felt it was time to go a few minutes ago. He wouldn't be late if he stuck it out longer, but prolonging this might appear to his date as hesitation. It took a long time to get in with the young Severus Snape. The first time Harry saw him was a match of gazes, and every one after that was a confused muddle of emotions and memories for the both of them. He was drawn to Severus, though; he'd never have thought he would be, but of all the people who Harry left in his previous life Severus was the one he owed the most to. He'd also seen him in a memory in his old life – their old life – so knowing Severus while he was younger was almost familiar. He'd had a penchant for wondering about his parents when they were younger, so this was a comfortable arrangement.

Severus reminded him of his old professor Snape, but the two were entirely different people. Severus let most of his emotions out, which meant that around Harry he smiled a lot. He also had a dark past, a dark desire to belong somewhere that probably wasn't good for him, and a fame that rivaled Harry's. It was nice being with someone who hated the spotlight as much as him – who threw themselves into their work so they could be something other than One of the Men who Ended Voldemort.

Snape had just graduated from Hogwarts with the rest of them not long ago and got a position directly into one of the most prestigious herbology facilities in England that would hopefully very soon promote him to a full time position brewing potions with those plants. Harry visited just twice before now, not because he hadn't asked for more meetings but because Severus kept making excuses to push the date. But tonight was his birthday, and for the first time Severus would see him without a battle.

The mirror wasn't going anywhere, so Harry Apparated away to the platform he was familiar with. The strange thing about Apparating is that sometimes climates in one area are totally different to climates in another. Tonight was cloudless with a hot breeze carrying the aroma of pollens and seawater. The place they were at was surrounded with pillars and a dome, but all sides were open. It was also surrounded by forest on three sides but the side leading south showed a huge building run by herbologists and potion brewers.

And Severus was there. The sort of greeting he might have liked was a hug and perhaps one of those kisses that came now and then, but what he got was Severus in his scrub uniform and a worried, stressed look.

Harry unintentionally smiled at the first sight of his friend, but now his emotion faded into concern.

"Sev…" Harry said, letting his eyes trace over Severus's body and taking in the insecure posture. "What's wrong?"

"I can't go with you tonight." Snape's voice is heavy.

All sorts of scenarios passed his mind. Forefront was the notion Severus was separating himself from Harry. So, not only because the platform was a crossroads for Apparation accidents, Harry left the cover of it and walked out from under the dome.

"What is it?" His voice was rather pathetic if he did say so himself. He elaborated with something a bit more sufficient, "All of this, Severus; what is it?"

He knew Severus knew what he meant: the owls telling him not to bother, the hurried caresses that were oh-so brief, the excuses. They'd only been together two months

Severus couldn't meet his gaze. "I…I can't go out with you."

Harry smiled but it was more of a smile of pain than happiness. "Why? The truth now, Severus. Why?"

"Because you're…because I can't…"

Harry waits, but not for long, and he moves in. He reaches out and tries to grip Severus's shoulders, but he's pushed off quickly.

"Don't touch me!"

Harry lifts his hands, palms out and fingers spread.

Severus is angry now, and that's a familiar thing. It brings to mind his old professor. "Don't you get it?! I'm not – I don't date men! Stop touching me because…I don't like it!"

Harry suddenly remembers Severus the night when he died. It was a split mixture of pain and loss all rolled into one, but there was also touching. Harry knew then that Snape wanted him there; that he was comforted by Harry's touch. Hearing Severus now ask to be left alone was upsetting and left him speechless.

Severus kept yelling. "I was blinded! I think I just liked the idea of making James Potter angry…but I don't want you…I don't want to be with you…"

"Severus…" Harry couldn't think of how to stop feeling punched in the gut, so he tried one more time to move in, but Snape stepped away. Harry looked down between them and then all around, thinking of what to say. Finally, he landed on begging, which was just such an out of the ordinary thing for the Boy Who Lived to do, he thought. "I love you!"

"No you don't! You loved the person who I remind you of! I know you think of him when you're with me. I can see you staring off into space and remembering. I know you're doing it right now!"

"No – no, you're not right about that. This isn't about that. Yes, you remind me of him, but I miss everyone I use to know, not just him!"

"First off, I _know_ you think about him when you see me because your Occlumency skills go down the toilet after you – you – get kissed," he blushed and fumbled the word, which embarrassed Harry that he couldn't pronounce it; that it wasn't something he didn't think strongly about. "And secondly: exactly! You miss THEM. You think I can't tell I'm just a fill-in; someone you can use to hide behind while you go about? I don't love you! I don't want you! I don't want to be with a guy!"

Harry just about lost his breath. He might have just stood there like an idiot and let Severus walk away if part of that wasn't true. As Severus turned to go Harry ran up next to him and stopped him.

"That's not true!" He yelled passionately. "I've wanted you more than anything since the moment I laid eyes on you! You're _good _for me, Sev! You're important in my life! I thought you wanted me –" "I didn't! I didn't want you. I wanted to piss off James Potter. You brainwashed me. You did everything you did in public so that I had no choice but to pretend it was true."

Anger flared in Harry's heart and he just about yelled, "How long have you been waiting to tell me? I know how you really felt about me that night we killed Voldemort! I was in your head, too! You wanted to save me because you wanted me!"

"Didn't!"

Harry yelled louder, "Did!" And he took a breath. "Severus, don't say this. Don't DO this! I want to be with you! And I _know_ you do, too!"

Harry thought he would die if he didn't win this battle. It was the first he'd been in since the war ended. It took him by such a surprise that everything Moody yelled at him today sank into him so deep they bathed his bones.

_"Murder!"_ Moody growled. _"There's no place for it! Not anymore! Not as anything but the final resort of a cornered man!"_

Harry was a cornered man right now.

"You're just another Potter! Too much ego!" Severus said. "Too much fame and fortune! Go be with someone else! Go be with a girl like you probably really want to do! You're sick! You're head's been so fucked with you don't even know!"

Snape didn't shove him away or anything, but his words did it for him. Severus started marching away. Without him near, Harry felt cold and alone.

"I don't want any girl. I don't want anyone else but you!"

And Severus said, without even looking back, "You do realize how you sound?"

Harry didn't know, but he was beginning to think he did. "You don't want me now because I'm a guy, but you did want me all those months ago despite me being one!"

The last thing Harry saw Snape do was shake his head, and then Harry had enough of all this and he stormed back to the dome and Disapparated back home. His apartment in the Auror In Training dorms in London didn't stand a chance. People banged on his door and they tried every form of magic they knew to open up and see what the problem was, but Harry's wards kept them back. No one got in that night.


End file.
